


Dog-eat-dog World

by kiben007



Series: Great at Zine pieces [2]
Category: Epithet Erased (Cartoon)
Genre: But I Ship It, Gen, Not tagging Arnold/Bugsy because it's only really one line at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiben007/pseuds/kiben007
Summary: Arnold's going to climb to the top of the Banzai pyramid scheme one day, but for now he's stuck doing the jobs no one else wants. His latest job involves chasing down a dangerous Inscribed in the most run-down town he's ever laid eyes on.[Piece originally written for the EE zine Great at Zine!]
Series: Great at Zine pieces [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805941
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Dog-eat-dog World

_Redwood Run. Population: Oops_

Arnold sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He stood at the edge of the most backwater collection of buildings he’d ever had the displeasure of visiting. He had yet to lay eyes on any of the locals of this… “town”, but already he agreed with the sign’s sentiment. This place was a mistake. The gas station at the edge of town was empty, the roads were unpaved, and the buildings seemed held together with twine. Even worse, the place had no design sensibility. Most of the houses couldn’t even manage the run-down look correctly. Roofs were caved in, walls were missing or torn down, and what little decoration there was looked ripped from a town on the Taiga-Desert border. Out of place among the town’s namesake redwood trees.

He noted this all down, along with a few more choice observations, in a small, leather bound notebook. It was something he always kept with him, and it served to keep him both organized and sane. The comments he’d written were ones he’d like to deliver to Banzai Hall-of-Fame personally, but complaining about a job would put him on too many people’s bad sides. Better to vent those frustrations somewhere people couldn’t see. After he was done, he slipped the notebook into his pocket and tucked the pencil behind his ear. With his frustrations out of the way, it was time to start on the job.

“Briefing,” he said, snapping his fingers. He’d come to Redwood Run on apparently urgent business, and though he’d skimmed the dispatch on his way over, he didn’t read it in full. He’d delegated that task to his minions, with the expectation they would fill him in when the time came. Who took up the task told him a great deal about his minions as well. In the Banzai Blasters, everything was a dominance game, and he liked to see how well his minions could play.

One of them approached from his retinue. A blond girl with long, curly hair. One of the Jennifer Triplets, his latest batch of minions. He usually thought of her as Yellow, the other two as Pink and Green. Easier to keep track of their colors than their nicknames. They, at least, had the sense to coordinate their outfits. That she was the one they’d singled out to deliver the briefing told him some about the Jennifers’ dynamic.

“Captain,” she said, clearly nervous. It was a mark against her character, but she was relatively new, so he could forgive her that. For now. She cleared her throat and began. “There’s been a string of attacks on Banzai groups in the last two weeks. Several have been hospitalized and arrested, including a pair of Vice Principals. The higher-ups found the attacker and chased them out of the city. They’re hiding out in this town, and the bosses want us to… _deal_ with them.”

 _Aversion to violence._ He retrieved his notepad and made a note of that. It needed correcting. Put pressure on her to perform through the other two Triplets? Something to think about after the assignment was over. He looked up to see that the color had drained from her face.

“Anything else?” he asked, replacing the pencil behind his ear. “Any information on our target’s Epithet?”

She shook her head, too mortified to speak. He sighed and waved his hand, dismissing her. Going in blind, then.

“Spread out,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “This town isn’t big enough to hide in for very long. Find this Inscribed and flush them out. You three.” He glanced over his shoulder and singled out the Jennifers. “You’re with me.”

Arnold got ahead in this game by having the most pieces on the board. Quantity over quality. His sheer number of minions was unrivaled among all the Banzai Captains because he could drive a hard bargain. He’d taken on a portion of each of his minions’ payments, enough to help them get a foot in the door. The cut he got from their fees meant it didn’t cost him a thing and lowering the entry fee meant he had more than a dozen minions at his beck and call. A veritable army. If his target was looking for Banzai Blasters to attack, he could provide. And once they were out in the open, he’d overwhelm them with the power of buying in bulk. He wasn’t expecting his opponent to employ the same strategy.

There were at least five or six teenage girls hanging out around the local sheriff’s office. No doubt squatting in the abandoned building, there was no way this town had a sheriff. He couldn’t be completely sure the girls were his targets, but they didn’t look local. He glanced into one window to see an older woman dressed in a very rustic leather and denim outfit. A local, by the looks of her, and she was staying indoors eyeing Arnold with the same suspicious eye that cast glances at the sheriff’s office.

One of the girls noticed his approach and began hollering. He tensed up, expecting them to attack or run or something. Instead, the others began to shout as well. He could make out a few colorful words amidst the cacophony. As he approached, one hand gripping his coupons, he noticed that all the girls wore the same outfits. Spiked hair, skull makeup, baggy leather jackets with large red Xs on the back, makeshift weapons like baseball bats and bike chains. More than that, they had the same face, with only slight variations in the number of piercings. Arnold had a feeling he was only facing one opponent here.

“Oi!” the girl in the middle of the group shouted. She’d been lounging on the steps to the sheriff’s office and was the only one who hadn’t begun yelling invectives at him as he approached. As she spoke, though, the rest quieted down.

“You know why I’m here,” he said, stopping next to the well in the middle of town.

“Yeah,” she replied, standing up. She had a can of beer in one hand, probably brought from the city. He didn’t imagine they sold much of anything out here. She didn’t look old enough to drink either, but that wasn’t his concern.

“For getting so uppity about yer turf, you Banzai twits sure don’t mind muscling in on someone else’s,” one of the “clones” spat. Arnold wasn’t sure that’s what they were, but it felt close enough.

“The Skull Brigade won’t take this disrespect, y’hear!?” another shouted.

“You came after us first,” Arnold said. “You clearly have no conception of respect.”

“Respect is earned, Stripes,” their leader said. “And yer bosses need to send better than you and the candygrams if they wanna earn mine.”

“I’m as good as you’re getting.” He shrugged. “You’re not worth any _real_ effort.”

A quick glance around told Arnold that the “Skull Brigade” was going to attack soon. The girl’s clones were getting restless, and she wasn’t listening to him. The need to make the first strike outweighed the desire to have more minions on hand. He whistled, and two of the Jennifers opened fire. Yellow hadn’t even drawn her gun, but he’d been expecting that from her. He’d hoped the other two could pressure her into fighting, but she was apparently even more timid than he’d assumed. He hadn’t counted on spreading out his minions being so thoroughly to his disadvantage.

The clones sprang into action as his minions unloaded their guns, rushing Arnold with weapons in hand. He backed up, keeping his minions between himself and the oncoming teenaged horde. Instead of impacting them like normal, however, the bullets cut straight through the clones, leaving small circular holes that leaked a red gas.

Bullets weren’t slowing them down, and the rest of his minions hadn’t arrived yet, so he threw out a coupon. _Take two items off her purchase_ , he thought as it flew out of his hand. It struck the girl and wrapped around her throat. She stumbled back, the coupon dissolving against her skin, and two of her clones disappeared. Arnold smirked at her. He’d never tried using a coupon that way before, but he was glad to know it worked. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one he had many more of.

The girl screamed, stumbling back as a bullet struck her, and tossed her beer can at Arnold. Another copy of herself coalesced around the flying can, gripping it where she’d touched it. He tried to get out of the way as the clone flew toward him, but she stuck out an elbow and—

Struck him square on the jaw. He fell back, throwing out a _two for one_ coupon toward his minions. They should have known what to do with it. It would double their magazine size until the end of the fight, and he could use some covering fire. He scrambled away from the clone wielding the beer can, getting just out of range of a strike that passed above his head. It swung the beer can like the others swung their weapons. Was that the trick? Separating each from their chosen object?

He didn’t have time to pursue the thought further as another clone reached him. He struck out, kicking it in the leg and driving it back before it could swing its bat at him. A third arrived, swinging a knife down at him, and a bullet caught it in the head. It spiraled to the side, and Arnold scrambled over to it. He wrenched the knife from its hands, and it dissolved into a red mist.

Arnold looked up to see Yellow, coupon pressed against her gun, firing on the other clones that were trying to attack him. He made a mental note to raise his estimation of her immensely. Even if she looked pale, she was dedicated. He might even call her loyal. That was far more useful than having just another bruiser on hand.

“The weapons!” he shouted, getting to his feet. “Hit the weapons!”

Yellow and Green changed tactics, firing at weapons instead of heads or chests. When they were knocked out of hand, the clones dissolved just like the other one had. The only minion of his that was having trouble was Pink, who was busy trying to fend off three clones at once that were too close to fire at effectively. She looked pretty roughed up, too. Unfortunately, she was too close with the other Jennifers to just forget about helping. He needed them to stick around, after all.

He threw an _exchange_ coupon at Pink, and her wounds began to heal. Exchanging the attacks was one of the first things Arnold learned to do. With the pick-me-up, Pink found her second wind, and managed to pull herself out of the scuffle. She was free, but they were still dealing with a crowd of clones. There were at least double the number that he’d seen to begin with, and Arnold could see her touching objects around her to manifest more. Even if they were low cost, she had a much larger stamina pool than he did.

As he and the Jennifers backed up, his other minions began to arrive. With their help, clones went down faster than she could make them. It wasn’t progress that would last if their ammunition ran out before her stamina did, but it was progress. For now, the tide was turned. Progress that seemed to bother the girl they were fighting, because she stopped and shouted. Her clones changed tactics, rushing back to surround her.

“Tracy!” a voice shouted from inside the sheriff’s office. “Everything alright out there? I heard a lotta noise!”

“It’s just a bug!” she shouted back, her face twisting into a grimace. “We’ll squash it ourselves!”

She grabbed one of her clones, and the copy of herself unfurled. The rest mist that spread out from it didn’t dissolve, however. Instead, it enveloped the others, drawing out their essence. The mist began climbing, forming a column around Tracy. After a moment, it coalesced into a twelve-foot-tall suit of armor, sword and shield in hand.

 _What in the world is her Epithet?_ Arnold screamed to himself. He was caught between pressing the attack and sounding a retreat. He was starting to get a clearer picture of why this girl had been able to take out a pair of Vice Principals.

The armor stepped forward to attack, and something struck it in the leg. A heavyset man in a Banzai uniform had charged it from somewhere Arnold couldn’t see. He stumbled forward, and his own minions began unloading on the suit. Another Captain, probably, sent to deal with the situation just like Arnold. Quantity over quality was an idea that permeated the Banzai Blasters all the way to the top, it seemed.

“Blasted thing!” the Captain shouted, jumping back to stay out of its range. It moved slow, but Arnold guessed that its sword strikes would hurt regardless. “I’m out of ammo!”

“There’s no more food!” one of the man’s minions replied. A Blaster with a red mohawk on his helmet, a touch gauche for Arnold’s tastes.

“Distract it!” Arnold barked. When his minions began firing, he ran over to the newcomer. Their fire wasn’t damaging it much, but they did keep it busy.

“What!” the man shouted, backing up from Arnold. “Who are you!? Why are you here!?”

“We’re after the same thing, trust me,” Arnold said. “You have an Epithet?”

“Like I would tell you,” the man huffed.

“Fine.” Arnold sighed. “You said you needed ammo?”

“Food,” one of the man’s minions said. Poor discipline, but Arnold wasn’t about to reprimand her. “His attacks are randomized, based on what he eats.”

“Shut up!” the man growled. “Do that again and I’ll make you regret it, understood?”

Ruling through fear. Barbaric, but it achieved results. The woman went quiet.

“Was your last attack any good?” Arnold asked.

“You be quiet too,” the man said, whirling around on him.

“Answer the question!”

“Yes, it was good! It took out the suit in the woods! Unfortunately, I’m not going to get something that good for a while, so—”

Arnold slapped two _two-for-one_ coupons on the man’s stomach. To his surprise, the man began to balloon, his stomach distending until he could barely wrap his arms around it. Then the man let loose, spewing a chunk of red-hot metal from his mouth. It struck the suit of armor and sheared through it, taking off a chunk of its shield and the arm that had been holding it up. The man’s stomach swelled again, and he fired another attack, but the armor was already breaking apart. The second attack punched through its chest, and it dissipated entirely.

“Screw you!” Tracy shouted, grabbing another beer can. She hurled it at Arnold, but the clone that formed around it didn’t finish growing. Not enough stamina left, it looked like. Arnold struck it aside and motioned for his minions to converge on the girl. She tried to run, but the new Captain moved faster. He grabbed her and hauled her back, slamming her into the well.

“You’re not getting away that easily,” he huffed. “The bosses want you dealt with, _permanently_.”

“Wait,” Arnold said, putting a hand on the man’s fist. “I’ve got a better idea.”

“They sent you to take her out too, right?” the other Captain asked, pushing Arnold back. “You want to go against direct orders?”

“I want to be smart. There’s an opening for a new pair of Vice Principals in Sweet Jazz City, and I plan to be one. Do you want that other slot?”

“Well…” the man paused for a moment. “Yeah.”

“Then follow my lead.” He turned back to the girl. “We’re not going to kill you. In fact, we’re willing to let you go. But we’ll need some assurances. You leave behind a copy we can show the higher ups, to convince them we did our job. You leave town and never bother us again. And you make sure that wherever you find yourself, you make trouble for the local Banzai Blasters.”

“I… What?” she asked. She’d been ready to shout some invective, but it died in her throat. “You want me to keep at this?”

“Somewhere you’re less likely to get caught, ideally. The more you weaken other Banzai groups, the more likely it is we get to move up. So what do you say? Truce?” He extended a hand. She considered for a moment before batting it aside.

“Yeah, truce,” she muttered. “But I’m not shaking your hand.”

“Suit yourself.” Arnold shrugged. He looked at his fellow Captain, and the man reluctantly released her. She touched her half-formed clone, and it morphed into a copy of herself, beaten and bloodied. Without another word, she ran off.

“Leave her,” Arnold said, looking around at his minions. “Not a word of this to anyone that isn’t present. And get a photo of the body. We want this to be convincing.”

“Sneaky,” the other Captain smirked. “I like it. The name’s Bugsy Pugsler.” He stuck out a hand, and Arnold shook it. His grip was firm. Arnold had expected him to be overbearing, but it appeared he was somewhat professional. Now that the fighting was done, Arnold had enough time to evaluate the man’s features as well. Round face, rosey cheeks, good fashion sense given their circumstances, strong musculature, very large figure… He was attractive, which was always a bonus, even if Arnold hesitated to get involved with a coworker.

“Arnold Markdown,” Arnold replied. Bugsy was powerful, good looking, and their epithets worked together. His only downside was that the lug wasn’t cunning, but that could work in Arnold’s favor. A real bargain. Arnold even felt a little bit bad that he’d have to betray the man eventually. Until then, though, things looked like smooth sailing. “I’m looking forward to working with you, partner.”


End file.
